The Broken Doll Diaries
by The Otaku You Fools
Summary: They sink. Further and further down into the dark. They'll keep sinking...or will they? Can these two dolls find their way out of themselves? Can they take back control of their lives? These marionettes. A series of ficlets. No real plot, though some chapters will build off of others. Currently taking suggestions. Updated when the feeling strikes.
1. Entry 1: Rima

******Okay...so I know I haven't posted anything in FOREVER, and I feel really bad. So, that's why I'm putting this up here! This little fic is_ not_ going to be updated regularly unless I feel like it. This is here for me to vent, and get re-inspired for my real fic "The Sight". Alright, well enjoy? All of the chapters are going to be full of angst because I'm feeling angsty. Also, not all of these chapters are going to be Rima. Some will be Amu. If anyone has any requests, tell me in a review and I'll consider it. Thanks~**

**This entry's writing prompt: The feeling of being hopelessly ovewhelmed**

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_**Rima's POV:**_

She runs in darkness. Broken pieces of glass strewn about her; they float in the air, cutting fair her skin as she bolts unsteadily past. Her matted long blonde hair lays in strings over her lifeless golden brown eyes. This poor child. This poor girl. Her inner self is scrambling around within her consciousness to piece herself back together. She's broken. A broken doll. Thrown around too much, and used to the point of her destruction. Did the others care? She wondered if they ever saw her as anything more than just a doll to throw things at. Memories, both bitter and fond, reflected in the jagged glass. Her parents screaming at each other; screaming at her. Her mother, coming at her with that broken bottle. She's not crying, and yet she tastes salt; yet her vision is blurred; no tears are coming. She's dying inside; she's sure. Oh, no. But on the outside she's fine; a bit sad; a bit lifeless; a bit frustrated, but everyone blows it off. Yes, she keeps acting as if everything's normal. The petite girl might snap a bit more than usual, and she might be more emotional than she should be...but nobody notices. No, don't listen to her cries. Don't listen to her saddened words. Don't notice; no. She doesn't want anyone to notice. She doesn't want to be helped. Her parents...they said that she deserved to drown; so she will. Just keep burying her. More and more, she buried under a sea of invisible objects. They are not real. Not actually solid. And yet she is able to drown in them. She sinks farther and farther down into the darkness as more words are flung at her; her once golden blonde ringlets were now filthy as they spread out around her while she sinks. Both inside and outside she's drowning. Drowning. Drowning in the invisible. Soon. Oh, so this broken doll with turn up shattered and dead on the floor.

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**I know it's short. These things probably won't be more than 2 pages long _at most_. Now, comments? Questions? Concerns? In order to fully get this, you need to look deeper into the meaning of these words. Let me know what your ideas are. **

**-TOYF OUT!**


	2. Entry 2: Rima

**So, I've already gotten 3 chapters written. I figured I'd just update all in one shot; that way people can get a feel for my writing style or whatever. Thanks for deciding to continue this fic~! I'm open to suggestions or whatever. You know...yeah. Oh, right. This is another fic with Rima. God, I've been feeling so down lately, and I just find that Rima's a good character to write when I'm being angsty and depressed. Enjoy? Maybe?**

**The** _underlined and italicized words are the things/thoughts that are going on in the real_ world. **In case you haven't caught on. The "doll" is Rima's subconscious/mind/insanity. And the "Master" is Rima herself in real life. **

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******Rima's POV:**

Why does nobody see her? Why does nobody care? No, they don't take her seriously. She used to speak up. She used to try and seek help. But now she just drowns. She lets herself drown, suffocate, get buried under everything. Why wouldn't they listen? She wonders. The signs were all there. She was doing everything short of directly asking for help. She wondered if she would even get help if she asked for it. Nothing helped, it seemed. She needed help. Someone, anyone help her. Why won't anyone try? She tried. She tried for everyone she cared about. Nagihiko, Amu, Utau. She tried so, _so_ hard for both of them.

The question is: Do they notice, and they just can't be bothered to try and grasp the hand that is desperately and fruitlessly reaching for a solid hold? Or do they not notice?

Do they not see the signs? Are they that unobservant? Is this broken doll truly the only person that notices the little things about people? She notices almost everything. How they're acting. She memorizes it and stores it away for future reference; and when she sees something that is out of place, she tries to make it better. She'll do anything to help them. Why won't they help her? Why!? No..they care don't they? Nagihiko cares. Amu cares...why then? Do they care?

She wonders this all as she stops her running, and collapses to the floor. She's so tired of running. She tired of it all; Running, Acting, Hiding. She's tired of it! She's so sick. So tired. So apathetic. And as the cold, bitter tears run down her porcelain cheeks, she decides to give up. To give up on everything. Nobody is there to grasp that hand. Nobody is there to see her cry. Nobody is there to care. Nobody is there to notice. Is she already dead? Well, is she? She doesn't know..it feels like it, but how can you die when you were nothing but an empty shell inside? Once upon a time she had everything inside of her. Somehow, without her noticing, it began seeping out of the cracks. Before she knew it, she was empty inside; the knowledge hit her like a freight train. She was nothing but an empty shell. Should she try and die? How could she? Options…this doll wanted options.

But no. She truly didn't want to die. If truth be told, she was absolutely terrified of the black grip of death. She just wanted everything to stop. Why? Why couldn't this stop!? Why did she have to be born in the first place? That's not to say that this little broken doll wasn't grateful for everything she had. She was. But if life is like this? If it's an inescapable prison where ultimately death will consume her poor chattered soul? She wouldn't want to have been born. Or maybe she would've. It scares her to think like that. It seems like the only emotions she knows how to feel now are anger, fright, and sadness.

The tears have stopped. She brings her empty glass eyes to look at the darkness above her. She's alone. All alone. Not one light or presence to comfort her. Nothing there to save her. No hero like those tales she read when she was still trying. And then the feeling of drowning hits her again; it's a familiar feeling by now. She should be used to it. She should just accept her fate. And yet, every time…every time she struggles against the weight. She struggles against the invisible hold; and just like every time before, she lets out a strangled scream and reaches out that shaking hand. She grasps at the air a few times; finding nothing. Always finding nothing. This doll…she finds herself sinking despite her best efforts. The sensation is noticeable. Oh, yes, quite. She knows she sinking, and she doesn't fight this time. She doesn't allow herself to be taken either. She's caught in the lonely middle; indecisive.

"_**Drowning in the invisible sea**_

_**I guess it's a right fate for me.**_

_**The jagged glass pieces of my memory**_

_**They cut my skin with their bitter edge.**_

_**And the weight that weighs me down**_

_**It threatens to consume me.**_

_**Should I let it?**_

_**Should I not?**_

_**Does anyone care? **_

_**Maybe I'll just let myself sink like a rock."**_

And then Doll sinks. She lets herself be taken, and is overwhelmed by the darkness. The darkness that had always been there. The darkness that she had unknowingly been cultivating in her heart; in her soul. If she was able to, she imagined that she'd feel surprised about how pitch black she really was on the inside. The voices began again. They began. Making noise. Bringing her knees to her chest, she put her hands over her ears and ducked down. Stop it. Stop talking, she wanted to say.

But on the outside…on the outside she was still acting as if nothing was wrong. As if the doll inside her wasn't broken. As if she actually still held something within her shell.

_"Hello." The puppeteer smiled as she looked at the vile creature in front of her. "I'm…"_

_Who was she? Who was there? What was inside her? Did it have a name? Did the doll have a name? Did she have a name? What was her name? Who was she? All these questions. Was there anything there? Why was she introducing herself? Why was she bothering? Why? Why…when there was nothing there to introduce?_

And on the inside, the doll listens to her master's internal turmoil and tries to cry out. But to no avail. Her voice would not work for even she didn't know the question presented to her. And a small spark sprang to life in her as she thrust her hand outward and began to struggle back to the top.

_"No, I'm fine." The puppeteer laughed, waving her hands and smiling so widely that it hurt her. "Why do you ask? Actually, I was meaning to ask you. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?" She smiled to the person in front of her. It was a different person this time. A friend. Not a stranger. They should help right?_

But the doll. Her spark quickly dies out as her strange behavior is dismissed. Instead, she lets herself be carried back to the glorious world of darkness. And she sinks faster. Faster, and faster as her master is not heard. As her master listens and does everything she can to help. And she sinks.

She sinks.

And she sinks.

**And before this shattered beauty knows it, the show has come to an end.**

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**Alright. End of second chapter. This one was longer than I had thought it would be, really, but that's okay. After my third chapter, I'm switching my way of writing. I'll be using a quotation from a book, or song to start off the chapter and the whole rest of the entry is to be based around that one quotation. If anyone has any requests for a certain quote, send them in and I'll look at them. Thanks everyone! **


	3. Entry 3: Rima

**Writing Prompt: Identity Crisis**

******Rima's POV:**

Won't you try to see her? Won't you try to understand? Can't you listen? Can't you see it? You're leaving her behind. The person who is not her, the imposter, is stealing her identity. It's gone. What is left? A shell of what once used to be. What is inside? Nothing for it has all been stolen. Now, the imposter struts around wearing her face, and everyone flocks to _her_ instead of the broken doll. That imposter. That god damned imposter doesn't deserve it! They don't deserve it! The doll is the one who needs the friends. But that imposter…that imposter had once been her friend hadn't they? They had…and the whole time they were helping the doll dig herself deeper and deeper into the hole. The imposter was just waiting for the right time to kick that dolls broken and wretched ass into the hole and steal everything that was hers.

And the doll sits in the hole. She sits in this filthy, disgusting hole and _waits_. Nobody comes, for everyone thinks that imposter is truly her. A wolf in sheep's clothing; that's what the imposter was. All of the dolls "friends" had left her for someone that had stolen her identity! They just kicked dirt in her face and paraded off with that damned imposter. Well, the doll thinks to herself. Fuck them. Fuck life. Fuck the imposter. Fuck everyone. Nobody deserves to live like this, the doll knows. And she knows it's only a matter of time before she falls to pieces. But she's not hopeless yet…she'll try to get up once more. One more time she'll get up and try again. Once more. From the top.

_**Let's set up the stage. **_


	4. Entry 4: Rima

**Yo ho, yo ho~! Angst ahead! I realize that Rima is terrible OOC. That's because I wasn't writing specifically for Rima. I imagine this to be a...darker version of Rima. One that lives in an AU dreamed up by my sick mind, and she's just had _enough_. So, these are all of her rambles leading up to, during, and after her her snapping point. Enjoy! Or..not? Oh, one more thing. I know I said this before...somewhere, but every entry from now on will contain song lyrics which are the basis for the entry. Also, the POV will switch from 1st to Third depending on what kind of mood I'm in when I'm writing.**

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**Rima: Snapped**

"_**I wanna get ya down my dark side."-Rock the Beat, Slick Beats**_

I've had enough. I'm finally done acting nice. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill everyone. Boy, will you be sorry then. You'll wish that you had stopped being an unreasonable bitch. You'll wish that you had _listened_ to my words. You'll wish that you had heeded my advice and listened to how cruel you were being. You'll wish. You'll be sorry. I'll make you sorry. I'll make _everyone_ sorry. If I kill everyone in this world, then who will be left to control me? Who will be left to be cruel to me? _**Who?**_ Who will be left to make me feel this way? Nobody! Oh, the thought just makes me want to laugh. Nobody will remain on this horrid, barren planet.

"_**I am the closest thing to God, so worship me, and never stop."-Don't Stop, Inner Party System**_

I shall be the only one! I shall be the one that prevails over all. I will be Queen for _once_ in my _life_; for once _I_ shall dictate all the others. _I_ will control everyone. _They_ can be the ones wishing to kill me! Oh, but they won't be able to! No, they won't! And do you know why? Do you? Because they'll all be _dead_. All just creations of my insanity. They won't be able to lay one finger on me! I will be the Goddess that they shall never hope to surpass or even _touch_! Oh, yes! I crave for this day to come. I've had enough! Enough! Enough, enough, enough of it all! I can't take it anymore. It'll be a day of joyous celebration when the delicious red stains my hands. I'll laugh. I'll laugh, and you'll be sorry. Oh, yes. All of you inferior life forms will be sorry.


	5. Entry 5: Amu

**Bonjour! So...thank you for sticking with me this far. I'm afraid that I've got no happy entry for you this time around either. Well, this fic isn't under "Angst" for nothing, you know. Anyways, thank you to all my readers. It means a lot to me that you guys actually care enough about my angsty rambles to keep on following along~ So this chapter I changed to Amu. I don't know...I just felt that Amu needed to be darkened. She's so...bright in half the fanfics I've read. So, this is yet another extreme version of a character.**

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**Amu: Last Resort**

"_**Cut my life into pieces. This is my last resort."-Last Resort, Papa Roach**_

I can't say I fancy the idea of dying. I really don't want to, but I've come to realize that I prefer it over life. It's not that I dislike living per se…it's just so much work. Too much work. I don't want to live in such a horrible world with such horrible life forms surrounding me. I'm sick of feeling unstable. I'm sick of feeling dangerous, insane, sad. It's a terrible way of life. I understand that there are others out there who are worse off than I am. Obviously, they're stronger than I am. I'm just so sick. I really should've seen this coming…I give up on things much too easily. As much as I'd like to deny it, and keep acting all strong willed...it's all but an act. I just never could've foretold giving up on life. It's a strange feeling…to give up on life.

"_**This is my last resort."**_

Where is it? Where is it? I can't find it. I can't find my last resort. Why can't I find it? It was right here! Ah, there it is. The familiar weight of a blade in my hand is comforting. It's the little source of comfort that I can get now days, as twisted as that may be. Up until now, I've never actually attempted to kill myself with it. Just put a few perfectly harmless marks on my skin in order to ground myself.

"_**Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm bleeding."**_

I can't bring myself to feel anything but a numb stinging as I stare at the dark red liquid making its' way down my arm. This has been such a regular occurrence; I've gotten used to the pain. It's all a source of comfort. It all grounds me; keeps me going for another day. Keeps me acting relatively "normal". I know it's unhealthy. I don't need anyone telling me that. They don't understand. They don't understand my feelings. Nobody understands. If only somebody would try. These thoughts spur me on, forcing the blade to make even more angry, bleeding red marks on my arm. I suppose it all became too much for my body to bear; losing that much blood. For my vision soon clouded, and the final feeling I registered was my body going limp and hitting the cruelly hard floor.

"_**I can't go on living this way."**_


	6. Entry 6: Resentment

**Once again, here's a new entry. Thanks for reading. Comments, concerns, questions. Bleh, bleh. Now, I really don't have a specific point of view for entry. It can be read as either Amu or Rima, really; talking about each other. I'm thinking it's more Rima towards the second paragraph, though. Sorry, dears. I just love writing depressed!Rima and dark!Amu. And vice versa. **

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**Resentment**

"_**Don't give a thought to all those feelings of resentment. They'll only lead to more."-Welcome to Chaos, Son of Rust**_

I don't understand why _she_ is so much _better_ than me. I don't understand why I'm always being _compared_ to others. I'm _not_ them, and I _never_ will be **damn it all**! I hate them. I hate her. She's always so much _better_ at _everything_ than I am. She's so competitive with me; I'm sick of it. Why can't she just let me be better at something for once? Anything I do, she makes it her life's goal to be better at it than me. It makes me so angry. I want her to go away. I hate her. I thought she was my friend. I honestly thought that she was there to help me. I thought..but no. I was stupid. So, so stupid. Now I see, though. I see everything, and I _despise_ everyone. Stop comparing me to everyone! Stop it! It just adds fuel to the fire. Oh, it gets me so angry thinking about it. I hate thinking about it! The mist clears more and more every single time I think about it, though. The big picture is coming into view, and it's oh so clear.

"_**When you're feeling how I feel, who do you speak to?"**_

What really gets me is that I have no one to talk to. Not even my own worthless parents. They don't understand. They don't try to understand. _They're_ part of the problem. I have nobody to turn to. My therapist? Yeah, right. She can't do jack shit. My friends are all self-centered bitches, and frankly I don't think they'd care if I up and died right now. Why don't we try it and see? I can't bother the rest of my family. They wouldn't know what to do with me, anyways. So who do I turn to? Myself. I can talk to myself; internalize it for the rest of my existence. But that doesn't do any good, now does it? I'm just running in circles. My head feels like it's spinning with hate, resentment, confusion, despair.

"_**Welcome to Chaos." **_


End file.
